


As Long As

by Philosoferre



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Break Up, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky is a shit, Fluff, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, but its not stucky!, dont worry!, we all know that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 11:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16085504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosoferre/pseuds/Philosoferre
Summary: “Did you have anything else to bitch about, or…?” Steve prompts, grabbing another carrot from the bag.Bucky jabs at the takeout menu. “I always have things to bitch about.”“Involving me,” Steve specifies, “or Peggy.”Bucky makes a gagging noise. “Both of you. Together. All the damn time. Being disgusting.”“Well I’m sorry I want to spend time with my girlfriend,” Steve says, a teasing edge to his voice.-(or, the one where Bucky will never admit he has a crush on his neighbour, Steve, and would rather die than let Steve catch onto that.)





	As Long As

Not to brag or anything, but Bucky’s the most passive aggressive person to ever exist. Yes, he knows Steve doesn’t deserve the silent treatment. And theoretically, he did nothing wrong. But Bucky had a really important coffee date with Natasha - any of her gossip is totally worth an eight am alarm - early this morning, and even when he tried to go to sleep early like the responsible adult he’s supposed to be, he couldn’t stop hearing that damn laughter. Haha this. Haha that. 

 

He’ll admit though, Steve has a nice laugh. It’d just sound even nicer if he wasn't laughing at  _ three in the morning _ .

 

Bucky’s fumbling with his keys, trying to look as grumpy as possible without getting that frown Steve thinks is adorable, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He sighs, pulls it out, and raises an eyebrow. 

 

**From: Stevie**

_ Hey man what’s up?? _

 

_ Sorry if I did anything. _

 

_ :((( _

 

Unimpressive move. Bucky sighs again and just as his fingers latch onto his house key, he sees someone in the corner of his eye. Steve’s standing outside his apartment door, holding  a bouquet in one hand and his phone in the other. He’s literally three feet away, and yet he decided to text.

 

Steve catches him looking and flashes a half-assed smile. Bucky just rolls his eyes and jams his key into his door, pointedly looking down at his scuffed shoes. Natasha was right, he really should clean them more often. The second he gets inside, before he can even take off his jacket, he gets another text from Steve.

 

**From: Stevie**

_ Look Buck, I don’t know what I did wrong _

 

_ Talk to me!!!  _

 

_ Please? :( _

 

Bucky huffs, gets comfortable on the couch, and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. Natasha’s probably going to kill him if she finds out he put his dirty shoes on the furniture she so graciously gifted him, but that’s the least of his worries right now. He doesn’t even know what to tell Steve. His thumb just hovers there above the  _ i _ .

 

**From: Stevie**

_ I’ll make it up to you, I promise  _

 

_ Are we still friends?? _

 

Bucky bites his lip. He honestly expected Steve to understand what this is all about. He rubs a hand over his face and groans, letting his head hit the squishy pillow behind him. He’s seriously considering getting all this over and done with, but maybe he should let Steve figure it out by himself. The voice in his mind - which he reasons should sound like Natasha but ends up sounding more like Ian McKellan, whatever that says about him - keeps being annoying and repeating,  _ that’s not nice. Friends are supposed to be nice. _

 

That’s a good point, but Bucky should also consider the other, much easier option, which is not doing anything. He gets another text before he can make up his mind.

 

**From: Stevie**

_ :( _

 

Steve’s pretty damn lucky Bucky thinks he’s cute.

 

Before he can even plot out the pros and cons of giving up so easily, Bucky finds himself knocking on Steve’s door. Steve opens it just a smidge, enough for Bucky to catch a glimpse of his dorky grin.

 

“Takeout,” Bucky blurts, feeling suspiciously like he’s confessing a crush. Which he’s absolutely not. “You’re paying.”

 

Steve’s grin grows wider. “Deal.”

 

“And we’re watching whatever I want,” Bucky continues, because Steve’s still smiling at him like the big goof he is and he can’t seem to shut up, “so none of your dumb dramas.”

 

Steve pulls the door open a little bit more and when he speaks, his voice comes out softer, almost like he’s whispering. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Bucky asks.

 

Steve nods. He holds the door open as far as it goes - a gesture they both understand to mean  _ come inside _ . “Do you want to-? We don’t have to wait till dinner.”

 

He sounds so hopeful. Bucky would never deny Steve anything. 

 

-

 

Ever since Steve moved into the apartment next to Bucky’s two years ago, they’ve always had Friendly Neighbour Sunday Dinner. It started back when Bucky, being the gentleman he is, offered to help Steve move in, so Steve, who’s also a gentleman, offered to make him dinner. Bucky learned two things that night: one, Steve’s a terrible cook; and two, Bucky’s gayer than he thought. They’ve never skipped their tradition.

 

Steve likes to call Sunday dinner a “church substitute” - why, Bucky doesn’t expect to ever understand - and it’s really the only way he gets Bucky to admit why he’s mad. Maybe that’s why he thinks of it as pseudo church. Confessions and all that. 

 

“What did I do this time?” Steve asks, leaning over the counter, smiling around the baby carrot he’s eating. 

 

Bucky lets out a quiet huff. He’s too focused on the takeout menu to answer. Steve chuckles and leans forward even more, so that his face is only an inch away from Bucky’s. He’s trying to get Bucky to talk, obviously. God knows why he keeps lying he’s trying to read the menu upside-down.

 

“What do I like again?” Steve asks, head tilted. 

 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “26. Chicken fried rice.”

 

“Huh,” Steve says, like that’s news. Maybe it is, Bucky doesn’t know. He’s always the one who remembers their takeout orders anyway. “Can I have the stir fry instead?”

 

“I’m not paying,” Bucky sings. He draws a star next to his order - spring rolls and vegetable chow mein, like always - and pushes the menu at Steve’s outstretched hand. He’ll admit, it’s impossible to stay mad at Steve for too long. 

 

Steve cuffs him on the back of his head. “Seriously, Buck. Was it Peggy? I thought you liked-”

 

“I do like her,” Bucky interrupts. “She’s nice. You know I’d tell you if I thought she was, like, evil or something.”

 

Steve chuckles again. “I think after five years I’d know if she was evil.”

 

“I don’t trust you to make that observation,” Bucky says, letting himself smile just a bit. Damn it, Steve. Take your charm down a notch.

 

“Then what is it?” Steve asks, pouting. He holds out the baby carrot bag for Bucky, a peace offering at its finest, and shrugs when Bucky shakes his head. 

 

Bucky rubs a hand over his face and sighs, long and loud so Steve knows just how annoyed he still is. “You guys were being annoying last night. You kept laughing and talking and- I don’t even know, I’m not going to ask. I couldn’t get any sleep.”

 

“Oh,” Steve says smartly, chuckling, “you’re bitching to me about Peggy staying over again. For the fifth time this week.”

 

Bucky frowns. “I do  _ not _ complain that often.”

 

“You kind of do,” Steve says. He’s still smiling, so he clearly hasn’t taken anything Bucky said offensively. And knowing him, he probably didn’t think any of it was very serious. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to keep you up all night.”

 

Bucky makes a face. Steve always says  _ I _ , never  _ we _ , never  _ Peggy _ . It’s not a problem, because he still apologizes for being obnoxious and he still cares for Bucky, but it’s just… not that Bucky would know anything about this, but he feels like couples who’ve been together for five years should own up to things they do together. It isn’t just Steve who’s keeping Bucky up - as much as that sounds like a better alternative. Maybe Bucky will just never understand the way they work together.

 

“Did you have anything else to bitch about, or…?” Steve prompts, grabbing another carrot from the bag. 

 

Bucky jabs at the takeout menu. He’s getting hungry. He didn’t stop waging his silent war just to talk, that’s what he has Natasha for. “I always have things to bitch about.”

 

“Involving me,” Steve specifies, “or Peggy.”

 

Bucky makes a gagging noise. “Both of you. Together. All the damn time. Being disgusting.”

 

“Well I’m sorry I want to spend time with my girlfriend,” Steve says, a teasing edge to his voice. Bucky knows he’s not sorry. He’s never sorry. Always a tease, that Steve Rogers.

 

“Why don’t you just ask her to move in?” Bucky asks. He’s always wondered why Peggy doesn’t live with Steve, but he’s always been too afraid to ask. Maybe Peggy’s secretly a vampire, and she doesn’t like Steve there when she feeds. Or maybe she’s a secret agent, and she’s afraid of making Steve a possible target.

 

Now that Bucky thinks of it, Peggy’s way cooler than he’ll ever be. She’s British, and she’s witty and quick-fired and insanely attractive, and she’s literally Bucky’s idol. Sometimes, all he wants is to live up to her, be as cool as she is, but mostly, he just wonders why Steve bothers with him. Why he puts up with his dumbass neighbour. 

 

Steve leans back on his heels and frowns. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to.”

 

“Why not?” Bucky asks. It isn’t really his business, but he’s always been desperate for anything Steve sees fit to share with him. He likes Steve’s voice.

 

“I guess I’m just waiting,” Steve says. He pulls out his phone to order their takeout, glancing between the menu and Bucky as he pulls up the number.

 

Bucky rests his chin on his hand. He’d be content with sitting here and watching Steve for the rest of his life. “For what?”

 

Steve winks at him as he dials the number. “The right person.”

 

-

 

They end up watching reruns of Modern Family on tv, and their food gets so mixed up that by the third episode, Bucky can’t tell if he’s eating fried rice or stir fry or chow mein. He doesn’t mind when Steve picks up the noodle hanging out the side of his mouth, or proudly feeds Bucky the bit of rice he managed to get with his chopsticks, or chugs half of Bucky’s ginger ale without a word. They’re not even best friends, not really - they just kind of coexist in this little nook halfway between friendship and dating, and it’s nice. It’s comfortable. 

 

“Is it okay if Peggy stops by?” Steve asks, turning the volume down. 

 

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah, sure. She’s your girlfriend.”

 

“And you’re my  _ friend _ ,” Steve says, pressing a boop on Bucky’s nose, which probably doesn’t mean anything. Right? Right.

 

Bucky huffs and swings his legs over the armrest. His head slides down Steve’s shoulder until he’s resting against his lap, smiling up at an adorably amused Steve.    
  


“Hi,” Bucky says.

 

Steve lets out a quiet laugh. “Hi.”

 

“You free tomorrow?” Bucky asks, hoping he doesn’t come off as weirdly attached as he feels. 

 

Steve chuckles and pulls Bucky’s arm up to lace their fingers together, turning their hands this way and that in the light. Bucky hopes Steve can’t feel his heartbeat thrumming in his wrist. “Depends who’s asking.”

 

“I’m asking.” Bucky’s using that voice he reserves for kittens, God help him. The more time he spends with Steve, the softer he gets.

 

Steve still hasn’t let go of his hand. “Well, in that case-”

 

The doorbell rings before he can finish his sentence. Steve lets out a groan, rolls off the couch, and shuffles to get the door. Bucky knows automatically, by the sound of a sloppy kiss and Steve’s smile reflected in the tv screen, that it’s Peggy. He hides under a blanket to mask the very obvious disappointment on his face.

 

“Good to see you, James,” Peggy says, flashing Bucky that practiced, warm smile of hers. 

 

Bucky nods in acknowledgement. He doesn’t really know why Peggy keeps calling him by his first name, and at this point it’s too much of a hassle to ask, so he just puts up with it. And god, by the looks of it, she was definitely hoping to get some alone time with Steve.

 

Not that Bucky could be considered an expert on dating, but he can tell Peggy didn’t drop by to say hello. She’s wearing a slim, bright red dress, a fancy-ass jacket slung over her shoulders, and - of course, the big flashing sign - her lipstick is bold and dark and just the right amount of  _ bend me over your kitchen table _ . Bucky rolls his eyes. There’s nothing worse than imagining Peggy and Steve getting it on. Steve’s the most virginal person Bucky has ever known.

 

“Hey, Buck, do you, uh-” Steve doesn’t finish his sentence. 

 

Bucky sighs, wraps himself in the blanket he stole, and then, with a half-hearted salute, lets himself out. Later, when Bucky’s scrolling through Netflix to find something to watch, he gets a text from Steve. And another. And then he gets a whole bunch.

 

**From: Stevie**

_ Hey buck I’m sorry _

 

_ Pegs wanted to talk _

 

_ dude??????? _

 

_ You made at me? Cause I promise I wasn't tryin to kick you out _

 

_ You can come back if you want _

 

_???? _

 

_ pls talk to me _

 

_ :( _

 

_ I miss you!! Call me or something okay!! _

 

_ :( _

 

Bucky types out a blunt  _ good night, Steve _ , but then he ends up spending a minute staring at the send button, his thumb hovering above his phone screen. He watches a mediocre comedy, and falls asleep without sending the text.

 

-

 

Bucky’s a little surprised to find no new texts from Steve in the morning, or any missed calls. T’Challa sent him a picture of his latest project, something robotic he’ll have to explain later, and Natasha asked him if he was stopping by the gym today. But it’s all radio silence with Steve.

 

Bucky knows Steve’s allowed to not text him, but it’s hard to not be worried when that man spends his waking hours bothering Bucky about everything that ever happens to him. He has a text from Steve that just reads  _ I finished a burrito in 10 min!! Proud of me? _ , and if Bucky’s being honest with himself, nothing makes him happier than out-of-context Steve texts. So maybe he misses Steve. So what if he can’t concentrate on anything. So maybe he has feelings.

 

-

 

Bucky’s tried everything at this point. A week of Steve’s weird-ass silence has gone by, and he’s left voicemails, texted, messaged him on the Instagram he never uses. He’s even cornered Sam in the hallway to see if there’s a reason he’s being ignored, but Sam didn’t give anything up.

 

Natasha suggested writing a love letter, which Bucky’s never going to do, ever. And that’s how he finds himself trying to shove a note (it’s handwritten, yes, but it’s not a love letter, okay) under Steve’s door. The good thing is, he knows Steve’s schedule by heart, so there’s no chance he’ll get caught. The bad thing is, he hasn’t had much practice shoving things under doors.

 

“What--do I even want to know?”

 

Bucky hits his hand on the door as he scrambles to turn around. Wanda, the girl who lives across the hall and is also apparently Steve’s friend, is currently standing in front of Bucky, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. She’s scary when she wants to be.

 

“Oh, nothing,” Bucky says, wiping his hands on his shirt. “Just trying to give Steve something.”

 

Wanda looks unimpressed. “Why don’t you  _ give _ it to him, then? Like most people do?”

 

It’s obvious she can see past Bucky’s terrible facade, so he just sighs and doesn’t bother pretending. “We’re not on talking terms. Sort of. I mean, I’ve been trying to, and he--I just want to know if I did something wrong.”

 

Wanda’s face softens. She puts a hand out to help Bucky up, and because he’s not in the business of denying nice people, he accepts. “I’ll talk to him today. And don’t worry, I won’t mention that you’re worried.”

 

Bucky smiles. “Thanks.”

 

Wanda pats his shoulder, says, “No problem,” and disappears back into her apartment. Bucky doesn’t really feel like handing over a letter that probably reads like a confession, so he folds it up and stuffs it in his pocket, and denies spending the rest of the afternoon waiting for Steve to come home. 

 

-

 

After meeting with Wanda twice the next week, secretly, at the Starbucks Steve kind of resents, Bucky learns all of three things: 1) something happened to Steve, and he’s refusing to talk about it; 2) both Wanda and Sam are worried about him, because they haven’t seen him leave his apartment in over three days; and 3) there hasn’t been any sign of Peggy. The side of Bucky that’s always been a little jealous of her is relieved, because he’d hate knowing Steve was ignoring him but not Peggy, but the side of him that cares about Steve feels really bad. 

 

Steve’s going through something, and he isn’t talking to Bucky about it. And Bucky’s been thinking Steve hates him, beating himself up for screwing over one of his best friendships, losing sleep because he can’t stand a world without Steve. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Wanda says, as they scout the full Starbucks for a free table. She rests a hand on Bucky’s forearm. “I’m trying my best.”

 

Bucky sighs, sips his dragon fruit refresher to stall. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“He’s just not talking to me,” Wanda continues. “You know I’d tell you if he mentioned you.”

 

Bucky nods. Sometimes, he can’t find the right words for what he wants to say. That’s what he likes about spending time with Wanda; she always seems to understand him. 

 

“What do you think about the whole Peggy thing?” Wanda asks, once they finally find a table.

 

To be honest, Bucky hasn’t thought about the Peggy situation that much. He keeps it at the back of his mind, never spends more than a few minutes wondering why she isn’t coming around, afraid he’ll come to an improbable conclusion he likes the sound of. Maybe - and he hates admitting this, but he’s always a little hopeful - they broke up, though he can’t think of a reason why. Steve and Peggy have been dating for five years, which is way longer than Bucky’s ever managed to keep a relationship. 

 

Five whole years. They’re Steve&Peggy, not Steve and Peggy. Bucky doesn’t think it’s possible for them to be complete without the other. It doesn’t make sense for them to break up.

 

So instead of answering, Bucky shrugs and asks, “What do you think about it?”

 

“I don’t know,” Wanda says, and Bucky mumbles out an agreement, because that’s better than confessing the hope at the back of his mind.

 

-

 

It’s been a whole month, and Bucky hates admitting this, but he’s starting to get used to Steve’s silence. He no longers waits expectantly for Sunday dinners, no longer keeps his phone by his bed in case Steve texts him, no longer bothers Wanda for information he knows she doesn’t have. He’s given up, and he never thought he’d be able to do that. Well, evidently, he did. 

 

Bucky’s a little sad about the situation, no matter how much he’ll try and deny it. He gets lonely on Sundays, and he can’t even open Netflix without remembering how much Steve would harass him over the movies he likes to watch. The  _ Romantic Comedies _ list he used to love is now just an empty reminder of nights spent with Steve. And, god, doesn’t he sound pathetic? If Bucky was someone else, he’d assume he just came out of a hard break-up, still heartbroken over an old boyfriend. 

 

That would explain how he’s feeling. Bucky’s heartbroken, and he’s not afraid to admit that to himself.

 

Bucky’s on his way home after a yoga class with Natasha, his shirt sticking to his back with sweat and his hair slipping out of a messy bun, a tasteless kale smoothie in his hand, when he catches Steve as he’s leaving his apartment. And, oh, Bucky feels like all the air’s been knocked out of his lungs.

 

Steve looks sad, like he’s spent the past few hours crying. He barely even looks up as he shoves his keys in the pocket of his hoodie. Bucky slows down, eyes following Steve, and catches his breath as Steve silently brushes past him on the staircase. Bucky almost reaches his hand out to grab Steve’s wrist at the last minute, but Steve slips past him too quickly, and he’s left with the feeling that the rift between them is more of an abyss.

 

-

 

Bucky sees Steve again the next day, and he looks even worse. He’s sniffling as he closes the door behind him, his hands stumble as he locks the door, and he shuffles down the hall without even looking in Bucky’s direction. 

 

Bucky sighs and goes home, and doesn’t bother replying to Natasha’s text about going out tonight. He falls asleep before he can admit to himself that he’s waiting to hear Steve come back.

 

-

 

“You should probably just talk to him,” Natasha says. She pretends not to look at Bucky as she stirs her coffee, but Bucky knows her well enough to see past the trick. 

 

“You don’t understand,” Bucky whines, slumping back in his chair. He buries his face in his hands and mumbles, “I can’t.”

 

Natasha gives him an unamused expression. “I’m not going to start accepting your bullshit today, Barnes.”

 

Bucky lets out a noise that falls somewhere between strangled coyote and disheartened whale. “It’s not that easy,” he grumbles. 

 

Natasha shrugs and tells Bucky everything gets easier if he believes he can do it, and once she’s convinced the message has been received, she switches the topic and asks Bucky if he’d like to help her with a short film.

 

-

 

Natasha’s advice - damn her - is how Bucky finds himself outside Steve’s door twelve minutes before midnight. He kept trying to go to sleep, but after three hours of tossing and turning and imagining the way Steve kisses, he decided it might be a good idea to just… figure it all out.

 

Bucky’s almost about to leave when he hears the faint shuffle of footsteps, and then the familiar click of the lock, and then the door opens and he’s looking at Steve, for what feels like the first time in forever. Steve looks sad, and tired, and the tip of his nose is red, and Bucky just has the urge to pull him in and hug him until all that sadness leaves.

 

“Steve, I-” Bucky had a speech planned out and everything, but the words escape him now that he’s finally face-to-face with Steve.

 

And then, before Bucky can even find the right words, Steve leans forward and kisses him. It’s just the softest brush of lips, more of a ghost kiss than anything real, and it lasts all of a second before Steve pulls back. Bucky hasn’t moved. Steve shifts his weight from foot to foot.

 

Bucky feels like he should tell Steve he’s not allowed to do that without an explanation, but that would be pretending he doesn’t want it. He’s tired of denying himself, of trying to ignore the way Steve makes him feel, and he doesn’t want to let this go. He can’t lie and say his heart didn’t skip a beat, or that Steve’s lips were warm and chapped, or that some part of him has been craving this for so long.

 

The only thing Bucky manages to say, among all the thoughts running through his mind, is, “Steve,” and then Steve’s hands are on his face, so gentle, and he’s being lead into a dark apartment. 

 

Steve guides him to the couch, and once Bucky’s sitting, he shifts until he’s straddling him, just the barest contact between them. He kisses slow and delicate, like he’s about to break at any moment, and he cards his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and Bucky lets himself kiss back, wrap his arms around Steve’s waist and hold him. And all of this would be really nice, if it wasn't all so sudden.

 

“Wait,” Bucky pants, pulling back until he can see the dim outline of Steve’s face. “I just--why?”

 

Steve looks a little crestfallen. “I wanted to.”

 

“Yeah, but… aren’t you and Peggy dating?” Bucky asks. He bites his lip, tastes the warm vanilla of Steve’s kisses. Steve doesn’t answer. Bucky takes that as a no. “Oh, Stevie. You can’t just kiss people when you break up. That ain’t how it works.”

 

Steve wriggles on his lap, and then brings his hands down to Bucky’s shoulders with a dejected sigh. “It’s not because we broke up, Buck. I don’t-” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

 

“Jesus,” Bucky says, slumping back against the couch. “You know, Steve, I--I thought, maybe you like me the way I like you, and you--you’re… I’m not a rebound, okay? I’m not here to give you whatever you’re missing.”

 

Steve frowns. “That’s the thing, Bucky. Pegs and I, we--she broke up with me because of you. Because she noticed I was looking at you the same way I used to look at her, and she didn’t want to keep me in a relationship I didn’t want to be in anymore.” 

 

He pauses, shakes his head. “Buck, even Pegs could tell I love you. And I--I didn’t know what to do about it, so I avoided you so you wouldn’t think you’re just a rebound. ‘Cause you’re not.”

 

Bucky lets out a shaky breath. “Oh.  _ Oh _ . Are you and Peggy still friends?” 

 

“It’ll take time to get there,” Steve says, and he’s smiling, dear god, and it’s the most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen. He places a hand on either side of Bucky’s face and whispers, “Bucky Barnes, you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known, and I love you.”

 

Bucky tilts his head and kisses Steve. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to it. “I love you too,” he says.

 

Steve looks breathtakingly gorgeous like this, and Bucky hopes to whatever gods are out there that this isn’t just a fever dream. This time, when Steve closes the space between them and kisses him, it’s rougher than before, and every slide of his tongue and grind of his hips slowly breaks the tension until they’re both stumbling towards the bed. 

 

Bucky rolls over and crawls on top of Steve. He can see Steve’s alarm clock in the corner of his eye, reminding him, in bright, glaring red, that it’s really late, but he doesn’t think either of them care. 

 

Bucky presses light kisses up the side of Steve’s neck and along his jaw, and - one last time, for good measure - whispers, “I love you.”

 

Steve fists a hand in his shirt and pulls him in for a rough, messy kiss, and then there isn’t much room for talking.

 

-

 

As much as Bucky would like to think things have changed between them, it’s not a surprise when he wakes up to Steve’s adorably sleepy smile, one arm hanging loosely around his waist. Maybe it’s because he’s spent the last year of his life fantasising about this. He’ll never admit it.

 

“Mornin’,” Bucky says. He shifts so that he’s closer, and traces his fingers over Steve’s cheekbones.

 

Steve lets out a half-assed groan, blindly fists a hand in Bucky’s hair, and tilts his head up until their lips slot together. It’s messy and lazy, and neither of them are in a rush to do anything more, and it’s glorious. Bucky huffs against Steve’s mouth as he rolls over, presses Steve deeper against the mattress. He feels the warm sunlight streaming in from Steve’s window, casting stripes of honey gold on their bodies. Steve glows, like his sole purpose is to wear that sunlight like a crown and if Bucky was any kind of artist, his hands would itch with the urge to capture him now.

 

But Bucky’s never been very good at art, so he lets his lips and hands paint on Steve’s body instead.

 

-

 

“I’m glad you guys worked it all out,” Wanda says, slurping her chai tea latte loudly. Her hands are covered in ink stains, and they rubbed off on Bucky’s shirt when they hugged, which sucks, because it’s his only nice white one. “Really. Everyone’s doing better now.”

 

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah, the sun is shining and there’s a good harvest and kids aren’t starving.” 

 

Wanda doesn’t comment on the obvious sarcasm. She’s gotten used to it. “I’m just saying, I think sex is doing good for you.”

 

“We don’t-”

 

Wanda laughs, and her hand comes to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. “When’s your next date?”

 

“Dunno,” Bucky says. He’s learned it’s useless to bring up a subject Wanda has obviously dropped, and he’s not so sure he wants to hear her opinions about his and Steve’s sex life anyway. “Whenever we feel like it.”

 

Wanda laughs again, and then she pulls her phone out and plays him the trailer of a movie she thinks he’d like. Bucky ends up buying tickets, and if it’s really just an excuse to make out with Steve in a dark movie theatre, that’s no one’s business.

 

-

 

Bucky wouldn’t say he’s talented, but he does have a knack for texting quickly, and that’s proving to come in handy. Natasha, for some reason, suddenly decided now’s a good time to bombard him with fifty texts about her wardrobe, which can all be summed up with the first text she sent:  _ do i wear too much black _ . 

 

Bucky’s answer is no, because if he said otherwise, he’d be just as guilty, and Natasha would drag him into whatever closet cleansing thing she’s planning on doing. It should’ve been a quick conversation, but that one innocent text led to Natasha questioning everything she owns, including the oven she  _ just _ bought. That’s been going on for an hour.

 

And Bucky was really hoping to binge Stranger Things season 2, which he hasn’t gotten around to yet, so he’s pretty damn proud that he’s a fast texter. 

 

But, of course, because he can’t ever have nice things, just as Bucky manages to convince Natasha there’s nothing wrong with anything she owns, except maybe that one pair of jeans he’s not a fan of, there’s a knock on his door. 

 

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters. He pouts at the tv screen before turning it off, because now there’s no way he’s going to actually watch anything tonight.

 

And, of course, it’s Steve at his door. Bucky’s not going to throw away his plan to be passive aggressive just because Steve’s cute.

 

“The fuck you want?” Bucky asks, crossing his arms. 

 

Steve’s grin only grows wider. “I got takeout. And it’s too much for me to eat by myself, so-”

 

“You’re a fucking dork,” Bucky interrupts, but he’s already reaching for his keys. He kisses Steve once, and then he can’t help the smile forming on his lips. 

 

“And I already started Grey’s Anatomy,” Steve continues, smoothing down Bucky’s hoodie. He keeps his hands on Bucky’s chest longer than needed, not that he has any complaints. “So you have no choice but to finish it with me.”

 

“You’re the biggest fucking dork I know,” Bucky says.

 

“And you wouldn’t trade me for the world,” Steve says, pulling Bucky in until he can feel his breath on his lips.

 

Bucky shakes his head and presses a quick kiss on Steve’s nose, and later, he doesn’t mind when Steve laughs, face pressed in the crook of his neck, even though it’s nearing midnight and he’s starting to get tired. Bucky ends up falling asleep with Steve in his arms, and reruns of an old sitcom playing softly in the background.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Bucko, happy life. :) If anyone has any recs for Captain America or Winter Soldier comics (or any Marvel comics, to be honest), please let me know! I've just started reading them and I'd love to hear what y'all like! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3 I'm on tumblr at epo-nine!


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